[Paddlewise] TR: Central Canadian Arctic Coast. Part II

From: rdempsey <rdempsey_at_CALAMITY.WYOMING.COM>
Date: Mon, 11 Sep 2000 12:11:56 -0600
This covers the  final four weeks of our seven week trip this summer. It's
long.

Part II

Trip Report: Bathurst Inlet on the Canadian Central Arctic Coast

(After 3 weeks on the Hiukitak River, we began a roundabout crossing of
Bathurst Inlet, to our pickup-up point 4 weeks later.  Paddling up and down
through the islands and peninsulas of Bathurst Inlet turned out to be the
 vacation" we needed after our vacation on the Hiukitak! )

We reached the mouth of the Hiukitak River  (67o 08' 15" N / 107o 03' 43"
W )
on July 24th. The distance to our fly-out point at the settlement of
Bathurst Inlet  (66o 50'20" N / 108o02"01' W ) was less than 40 air miles.
80 miles by the shortest paddling route, which involved long  (2-mile)
crossings across open water.  Our progress across the Inlet was slow and
leisurely. We sought to avoid open water crossings greater than a mile
across.

The first European visit to this area was the 20 men led by John Franklin on
his first expedition. They explored the shores of Bathurst Inlet in Aug
1821. Several of our camps were along their route.

July 25th - July 31st

On the 25th we paddled south 6 miles along the shores of Gordon Bay /
Bathurst Inlet under cloudless warm (80F) skies to camp on a red shale
beach. This was the first time in 3 weeks I had the energy to fish at day's
end.  I caught a large arctic char for supper. We began to see many new
plants on the Inlet: on sandy hills there were dense stands of Wormwood
(Artemesia tilesi) or sage, the crushed leaves smelling like the desert sage
of the US Southwest.  Beach Pea (Lathyrus japonicus) with its delicious pea
pods tasting very similar to snow peas. Liquorice-Root (Hedysarum alpinum)
salt tolerant Lyme-Grass or Beach-Rye Grass  (Elymus arenarius) and yellow
mats of flowering Seaside Potentilla (Potentilla ededii).
The very dry weather and proximity to salt water meant the end of bug
visitation. Many days we were able to forsake our bug shirts, and bug-hats,
which for the prior month had become like seconds skins to us.

 We found fresh water in streams cascading down from the inland lakes on the
mainland to the salt-water inlet. At times, we could hear the sound of
running water for quite some distance out on the bays, before spotting the
watercourse.  Hidden in dense alder-willow thickets it was always with a
degree of nervousness that we filled our water bags from these streams as we
watched for bears.

Seeing fresh bear tracks fresh below the high tide mark on one sandy beach,
we began to seek island campsites. The islands, though often less than a
square mile in size were hilly and offered 360-degree panoramas across the
inlet. Warm sunny days continued, although there were occasional evening
thunderstorms. The islands and mainland were mostly of granite and red
quartzite, although there were occasional low outcrops of red sandstone. The
shores were small-pebbled beaches, or narrow sandy beaches.

One island, which we called Gull Island, was a long red finger of red
quartzite, covered with yellow arctic poppies (Papaver radicatum) and
circled by noisy gulls. We spent a rest day there on the 28th. Fishing was
excellent for small flounder and fat Tomcod, which I threw back with
disgust. The char were all up in the freshwater rivers spawning. An Inuit
angler would hand the next char I cooked for Wendy to me 3 weeks in the
future, at our flyout point, as we ran out of food.  The 29th brought dark
storm clouds from the south, with high winds and white caps on the Inlet.

Occasionally we chose to paddle in the early morning hours after the daytime
winds diminished. Even at 2 AM, the "night" could scarcely be called dusk.
Other days we started out in the morning, only to quickly find ourselves
shore-bound again as the winds increased. We began to see ring seals
frequently. Their smooth round heads would pop up from the water, watching
us with silent curiosity, often only 50 yards from the canoe, as we paddled.
Along the island hilltops, we saw an occasional solitary male caribou-
unlike the vast caribou herds we had seen the prior year on MacKay Lake on
the southern Barrengrounds.

On July 29th, we crossed over to Bear Island. The Franklin expedition had
stopped here on August 10th, 1821 and shot a bear. Finding a large driftwood
log on the beach, they cooked the bear for lunch. Richardson wrote "the bear
had a slight fishy taste but was deemed very palatable."  We saw no bears,
just a solitary caribou, which passed less than 20 yards from me as I cooked
supper.

On July 31st, we saw a powerboat with 2 Inuit boys out fishing for the day.
They were the first people we saw in 28 days.

Several evenings were marked by violent thunderstorms; their passing often
marked by rainbows touching the luminescent hillsides.

Aug 1st-6th

In the early morning hours, we paddled over to a large island, which divides
the SW corner of the Inlet into large 2 bays. The southern strait is 400
yards wide, and It was with considerable alarm we passed through the
southern strait. It was an hour past low tide and although the water
appeared calm as we entered the strait, we encountered several large
up-wellings of water, which made steering the canoe difficult. Worse yet, we
were pulled into several whirlpools 10 yards in width, whose "funnel " was
nearly a foot below the surrounding water. These vortices would spin the
canoe in a circle, until we could paddle up out of them.

This was a frightening new experience for us, unwelcome in the cold dusk of
2AM. We spent 2 days camped on the shore of this 3 square mile island. From
a hillside, we watched the strait at high and low tide. The water streaming
in and out of the bay with each tide, roared like a river rapid and we could
see large standing waves. This was in an area where the difference between
high and low tide was rarely more than 2 feet.  We had been very fortunate
to have come through this bottleneck at one of its least turbulent moments.

There was a brackish lake on this island enclosed by steep walls of granite.
We saw a pair of tundra swans swimming there. Wendy discovered several
mysterious stone constructions resembling low walls. We later learned that
these structures had been used in the pre-rifle era by the Inuit as hunting
blinds for caribou. Our plan was to paddle north to the isthmus which
offered a 1.5-mile portage, avoiding a 30-mile circumnavigation around a
large peninsula, facing the open sea. We judged that we could carry-over  in
2 days, camping mid-portage at a small lake. Though we were certainly in no
hurry to get anywhere soon, Wendy thought that it would be wisest to visit
the isthmus to be sure our plans were realistic. With memories of the
numerous unforeseen "complications" of our voyage, it seemed prudent.

If the timing of passage through the turbulent strait three days prior had
been a lucky coincidence, our arrival at the portage site was most certainly
ill timed. On shore, where we hoped to cross over, there were two huge
grizzly bears, peacefully rooting around in the marsh. One of them sat up to
watch us with curiosity, as we watched them offshore from a distance of 500
yards.

Although the bears might no longer be in the area of our portage route later
in the week, the desirability of an overnight camp on the isthmus lost its
appeal. The bears slowly moved away from us and out of sight. We moved
somewhat more rapidly in the opposite direction. A strong headwind developed
on our trip back to the straits at the north end of the island we had left
the previous day. It was a very long paddle back with white caps, and 3-foot
waves. Because of long rocky projections jutting out from shore, just
beneath the water's surface, we were often forced to paddle at an
uncomfortable distance from the mainland in very rough water.

Aug 7th-15th

Like turning a calendar page, the weather also changed in August. The days
continued warm, but were increasingly windy. Two major storms passed over us
on the 7th- 8th and 12th-14th . Things settled into a predictable pattern.
Awakening to winds from the South and whitecaps on the Inlet meant glassy
seas later in the afternoon. Winds from the East or West would swing around
the compass like the hands of a clock. A wind out of the Northwest meant..
Well.  we never did get a good sense of the significance of a NW wind.
Sometimes good weather followed, other times, a storm. Our barometer proved
to be useless in predicting the weather. It was however reassuring in the
midst of storm-borne winds shaking the tent (a NorthFace VE-25). We learned
that a rising barometer meant that if the tent did not collapse in the next
24-36 hours we would eventually be OK. Wendy asking "So.How's the barometer
doing?" became an opening gambit in our private game as to whether or not I
felt like paddling and moving camp, in the face of good, bad, or indifferent
wind and skies. I managed to couch my weather forecasts in vague and
subjective terms, depending on my inclination to fish that day instead of
paddling.

On the 7 and 8th a violent storm lasting 2 days blasted across the small
island we were camped on. The tent shook violently while we read inside.
That night as the winds increased in their fury, I decided to move the canoe
away from the shale beach, and tie it down in a small willow thicket behind
our tent. I was unprepared for how strong the wind actually was. It was
difficult to stand upright and move against. I untied the canoe from the
rock anchors. It was immediately caught by the wind, and while I managed to
hold onto the gunwale from the windward side, I was amazed at how
"weightless" the 70-lb canoe felt in the gale. It was with difficulty that I
wrestled the canoe into the willow thicket 15 yards away, while keeping it
from flying out of my hands. The tent was well positioned and securely
staked. Yet, we decided to sleep fully dressed in our rain gear in case the
tent collapsed in the windstorm. I did not get much sleep, although Wendy
appeared to do just fine as the wind howled across the island.

Late in the afternoon of the 8th, the storm began to abate, and we saw small
patches of blue through the thick gray clouds. Hoping to get an early start,
if weather permitted, we fell asleep early.

Around 1AM, I was awakened by the crunching sound of footsteps on the shale
beach, just behind the tent. I heard something just a few feet from my head,
on the other side of the tent fabric. As I sat up, I heard a snarl, and the
startled movement of something on the shale. I sat up thinking, " this was
it." This was the end.

As Wendy continued to sleep, I sat up, and grabbed my rifle. I disengaged
the safety of the gun. I reached for my pepper spray, thinking that neither
of these weapons would be of use at such short range.  Crawling on all fours
through the vestibule of the tent, I did not know what would be outside, but
had a very strong fear that it would be a bear. With relief, I stood looking
around outside the tent. I saw nothing. Had I been sleeping?  Was it a
waking dream in which I had heard the footprints on the shale? Turning
toward the canoe with our food packs unmolested, I was confused. Looking
down toward the beach, however, I saw very large shape, lumbering away.

Wendy had woken up when I had unzipped the tent door. She asked me what was
it? What was I doing?  I lied, saying I thought I heard something, but it
was nothing, and to go back to sleep. With the heavy cloud cover, it was
quite dark. There was no way that we could cross the strait to the mainland
in such gloom, although the surface of the water appeared tranquil. I
climbed back into the tent, but sleep would not come. I lay there tense and
listening.

After an hour, I woke Wendy up, and said we needed to move. At first, she
thought that I meant the water was calm, and we ought to continue paddling.
We quickly and silently packed up in the half-light, at 2AM. The air
temperature was 36F.  We stopped on a broad pebble beach at 6AM to boil
water for cocoa. We were both very cold. Over a 12 hour period we would
paddle nearly 26 miles, crossing the strait, then North along the shore of
the peninsula, then turning South again to the end of our erstwhile portage
route, then turning North again to reach Manning Point. We saw many seals,
often 8 at a time swimming nearby watching our progress.

The first Franklin expedition spent Aug 7-8 of 1821 encamped at Manning
Point. John Richardson's journal from that trip remarks on the red sandstone
and conglomerate rock here with embedded pieces of white quartz. It was
obvious where the Franklin party must have camped, there being only one area
on the point large enough to hold a group of 20.

Two small weasels fearlessly darted across the sandstone boulders only a few
feet from us.

On the 10th, we made the 1.2 mile crossing to Quadyuk Island. Quadyuk means
"backbone" in the language of the Inuit. Indeed, the massive fault hills
rising from the water did look like the vertebral column of some giant
beast.

We spent the next 5 days camped on a long skinny island, home to a solitary
caribou who wandered past our tent periodically. Wendy fond a small pond at
the south end of the island, which supplied us with water. Driftwood was
abundant.  There were 2 days of heavy rain. As the weather cleared, we heard
motorboats. Wendy waved one of them down. It was a large group of Inuit
traveling from Coppermine (200 miles to the West) to Cambridge Bay 200 miles
to the Northeast) visiting relatives and friends. They had stopped at the
Bathurst Inlet settlement and were enroute to the mouth of the Hiukitak,
before continuing their journey North to Cambridge Bay on Victoria Island.
It was remarkable to see these small boats with their open cabins filled
with children and elders, on such a long journey. They must have shaken
their heads and laughed later thinking the same thing of us.

Aug16th-21st

On the 16th, we paddled a few miles south to Wignick Island. The mile long
island was shaped like a huge dumbbell. Two huge granite hills rose on each
end, with a small flat neck of land in between. From the south hill, we
could see the settlement of Bathurst Inlet at the mouth of the Burnside. The
leaves were beginning to change color on the dwarf willows and bearberry.
Autumn was approaching, and the daytime temperatures rarely climbed into the
mid fifties. We camped here for 2 days in cold and windy weather, before
crossing the strait over to the settlement.  Our floatplane was to pick us
up on the 21st.

Except for one Inuit family, the other villagers had all gone to
Yellowknife. Originally the home of the Burnside Mission (now closed and the
old church converted to guest rooms) and a Hudsons Bay Store (now closed and
the buildings converted into Bathurst Inlet Lodge, which was also closed) it
lay on a low spit of land with a view of the Burnside delta. The Inuit here
still practiced subsistence hunting and fishing.

Before our trip, we had been assured by the owner of Bathurst Inlet Lodge
that we would be welcome to stay there before our flyout. However on our
arrival the Lodge was closed, and had been so for 4 weeks. Instead we stayed
at a small cabin used, without water, and equipped with a "honey-bucket" for
facilities.  There would be no showers for us until we reached to
Yellowknife. We were also running low on food but there were no meals
available to us at the shuttered Lodge. Our plane was inexplicably a day
late in flying us out, as well.
However, we did have some time to explore the nearly deserted settlement.
Wendy spent an afternoon picking crowberries with Grandma Jessie, a spry
80-year-old woman. She also bought beautiful soapstone carving of a loon
from her.  I spent my time reading "Death on the Barrens", an account of the
ill-fated Moffat trip down the Dubawnt River in 1955, and Don Starkell's
"Paddle to the Arctic".  I was already thinking of another trip for next
summer: the Thlewiaza River from the Manitoba border to the East shore of
Hudson's Bay.



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Received on Mon Sep 11 2000 - 14:33:14 PDT

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